


Unworthy

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Keith (Voltron), Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Prince Shiro (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25188760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Keith was unworthy to be a knight, and everyone knew it – much less the Crown Prince’s favored knight. When he returns in disgrace from a lost battle, he is resigned to being dismissed from Shiro's service for his failures.But the Crown Prince does nothing of the sort.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 847





	Unworthy

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely [@AyraIsaacArt](https://twitter.com/AyraIsaacArt) \- thank you for the fun prompt and the creative freedom you gave me with it :p always here for Shiro making Keith feel appreciated and loved like he deserves :')))
> 
> find me & more sheiths on twitter [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro)! thank you for reading & for your kudos & comments <333

Keith was unworthy to be a knight, and everyone knew it – much less the Crown Prince’s favored knight. 

He was not of noble birth, nor was he gifted with magic, and he was half Galran, which was more than enough evidence for many that he was a traitor to the kingdom. No matter that his mother was one of the Marmorans, the rebel Galrans who had been clandestinely allied with House Shirogane for decades. His eyes turned gold in the right light and his nails and teeth sharpened to claws and fangs in the heat of battle and that was all some would ever see in him.

It was enough for them to blame him for the failed siege of Arus, the stronghold of Commander Sendak, one of their most vicious enemies. The siege had dragged on for weeks, and Keith had been the head commander on their side – Shiro had trusted him with that, for he had been unable to join them on the battlefield due to a sudden bout of his old illness. He had sent Keith off with the promise that he would return, and Keith had sworn he would bring House Shirogane victory. 

He had not done this. 

Their defeat, he reasoned, could have been far worse, but he would still be blamed for it, and he blamed himself. Perhaps if they had tried for a stealthier approach, like the Marmorans favored – but the Shirogane knights did not fight like that, and if Keith had ordered them to take such an approach, there would have been even more whispers about where his allegiance lay, and why he was making them fight like Galrans. 

There were already whispers. Whispers that Keith himself had sabotaged their siege equipment and burned the catapults, instead of Sendak’s scouts, whom they had in fact captured and interrogated...too late, of course. Whispers that Keith had arranged a deal with Sendak to seal their defeat, and cared not for the other knights’ blood that had been spilled. 

Worst of all, there were the whispers that Keith had seduced Prince Shirogane, and this was the only reason the Crown Prince kept him around. These whispers should have been secondary to the ones about his imagined alliance with Sendak, but Keith could not shake them off. Such rumors made him as miserable as they made him angry. There was no truth to them, of course. 

Keith was well-aware of the Crown Prince’s proclivities, but his relationship with Shiro was one of great respect and loyalty. He knew Shiro was more familiar with him than with any of the other knights, and indeed Keith spent a great deal of time with him, and Shiro had referred to him before as one of his dearest friends, but Keith knew what he was. 

He was the Crown Prince’s knight and he intended to serve him as such. He would never dare to act on his feelings towards Shiro. How could he? In the best scenario, Shiro would reject him and their relationship would never again be so familiar. In the worst scenario, Shiro would dismiss him from the knighthood, dishonored. Keith could not bear the thought of either.

But perhaps Shiro would dismiss him anyway, now that he had led such an utter failure of a battle. He rode now at the head of the battered knights and troops, and he could feel their exhaustion and frustration, the shame they carried with them. Keith was only content that they had not lost too many. Catapults could be rebuilt; warriors could not be. Still, there were many injured, and the healers would be busy for a while yet. 

His hand drifted to his right shoulder, where one of Sendak’s warriors who came for them in the night ambushes had caught his shoulder with their sword before Keith felled them. He had told no one about the injury, and stitched it up himself by candlelight when the skirmish was over. It would scar badly, but it wasn’t mortal – he’d had much worse. 

His horse, Red, lengthened her stride with an eager snort as they came over the ridge and the Shirogane castle loomed up before them, white stone and silver pennants shining in the morning sunshine. There were a few halfhearted cheers from the troops, and Keith’s gut twisted as he looked up at the Crown Prince’s tower. He steeled himself. He would deserve whatever disappointment or anger Shiro met him with. 

They were received at the castle gates in a blur and Keith’s horse was led off to the stables, leaving him standing in the courtyard, all too aware of the murmurs and glances all around him. Keith was tired. He would go to his quarters, and then –

“Keith!”

Keith turned, heart in his throat, to see Shiro striding across the courtyard, his cloak snapping in the chill wind. Keith couldn’t see his expression from this distance, and stood stiff and uncertain, the murmurs growing louder as Shiro neared him. When he was close enough to see Shiro’s face, he saw the smile there, and in confusion dropped to one knee, kneeling before him. “My prince, forgive me,” he started, and froze at Shiro’s hands cupping his face, tilting his chin up, one warm flesh and the other cold metal. Keith swallowed. 

“Rise,” Shiro said, his smile falling and brow furrowing. “You’re getting your armor all muddy down there.”

Keith staggered to his feet, another apology on his lips, and then found himself tugged into a firm embrace – right there in the middle of the courtyard. His arms hung limp at his sides, and Keith stared in disbelief over Shiro’s shoulder as the prince squeezed him half to death and whispered, “Gods, Keith, it’s good to see you again.”

Instead of answering, Keith let out a thin whine of pain when Shiro’s chest pressed against his shoulder, and Shiro pulled away at once, his eyes narrowing. “Are you injured?” he demanded, and glanced around the courtyard, seeming to finally notice all the eyes on them. Keith felt the onlookers respond to the prince’s glare, turning away and going back to their own business as Shiro gently steered him out of the courtyard and up the stone steps. 

“It’s nothing, my prince,” Keith said, clearing his throat, still unable to look Shiro in the eye. “I don’t want to trouble you –”

“No?” Shiro scoffed. “Well, too bad. I’ve _ been _ troubled. It’s been weeks, Keith, and hardly any news from the siege...and none of it good news.”

Keith winced. “I know, my prince. I’m sorry –”

Shiro shook his head. “Can you make it up the stairs to my tower?”

Keith blinked at him. “I – of course, my prince, but –”

“Good.” Shiro started up the stairs, walking with Keith beside him the whole time. Keith’s mind whirled – did Shiro intend to dismiss him in private? The prince wasn’t happy, that much was clear – he had smiled when he saw Keith, but Keith knew Shiro, and there was an edge to him right now, an aura of tension that set Keith on edge, too. Had something happened at the castle while Keith was away? Shiro looked as if he’d recovered from his illness – it had been quite severe when Keith left, so it was a relief to see him well – but maybe there was something else…?

Keith stumbled once on the stairs, an accidental trip on the edge of a step, and was startled by the quickness with which Shiro caught him, steadying his arm and giving him a long, searching look that left Keith’s face warm. 

What was going on?

By the time they made it to Shiro’s apartments, Keith felt even more uncertain and anxious than before. Shiro didn’t seem angry with him, but then again, the Crown Prince was a patient and levelheaded man, good at controlling and concealing his emotions. Good traits for a leader.

Unlike Keith, who knew he had a tendency to jump too fast to fury and forget about the consequences. Yet another reason he was unfit, unworthy. Keith’s shoulders slumped. 

Shiro closed the door behind him, and then it was just the two of them, standing in the lavish sitting room. It was a beautiful day: sunshine and a pleasant breeze drifted in through the wide windows. Keith had missed this room, in which he and Shiro had spent many a lazy afternoon in food and drink and conversation. But he had a sinking feeling there would be no other afternoons like those, not anymore. 

Shiro lingered before him, his gaze still tracing over Keith with a strange intensity. Keith had to resist the urge to squirm. “Show me,” Shiro said suddenly, and Keith tensed.

“My prince?”

“Your wound,” Shiro said, expression unreadable. “Show me, Keith.”

Keith hesitated, unsure what Shiro was getting at here, but he would never disobey an order. Slowly he began to unbuckle his cuirass, setting it aside gingerly on the floor before then taking off his pauldrons. He winced when he removed the left one, for the stretch in his right shoulder was uncomfortable to say the least. Shiro watched, his eyes narrowing further. Keith’s heart pounded as he reached then for his tunic, biting his lip before drawing it up and over his head in one jerky motion, his shoulder again protesting. 

As soon as Shiro saw his bare shoulder, the angry red line of the knife’s cut bright against Keith’s skin, he sucked in a breath. Keith didn’t dare to make any excuses, not when the prince was looking at him like that. “Has it been treated?” Shiro’s eyes were burning, and he took a step forward, closer. 

“I – it was not serious, my prince,” Keith started, “so I thought it best to stitch it myself and let the healers help those with more grievous injuries –”

“Not serious?” Shiro shakes his head. “This is a deep cut, Keith. Men have died from less serious wounds. Your blood could have been poisoned. You should have had the healers take a look at it.”

Keith wilted under his disapproval. “Yes, my prince,” he said. “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to appease Shiro. “Keith,” he whispered, “stop apologizing. I’m not blaming you for getting hurt.”

Keith frowned. This was just salt in the wound. “My prince,” he said, carefully, “I  _ should _ be blamed. It was my fault that we lost the battle, and I understand if you choose to dismiss me from your service, for I am unworthy to serve you and hold this title and all I would ask is that you say it outright and get it over with –”

Shiro grabbed his uninjured shoulder with his metal hand and Keith fell silent. “You thought,” Shiro whispered, “that I intended to dismiss you? For – for what, losing a battle?”

“I’ve dishonored House Shirogane,” Keith whispers back, head hanging, “and I am half Galran, and a commoner, and the other knights say I am a traitor and though I would rather die by my own sword than betray you, I would understand if you believed the same and preferred someone more fit to be a knight at your side – mmph!”

Shiro’s other hand covered his mouth, and Keith stared up at him, eyes wide, breathing unevenly against the prince’s warm palm. “Oh, Keith,” Shiro said, shaking his head, hand falling away. His eyes, Keith realized, were sad. “How could you ever think yourself unworthy of being mine?” Slowly, his metal hand lifted from Keith’s shoulder, moving instead to trace his jaw, the curve of his cheek. Keith held very still. “I do not intend to dismiss you,” Shiro added. “Not now, not ever.”

Breathlessly, Keith stared up at him. “Why not?” he said, barely audible.

Shiro sighed. “Because you are the best knight in this kingdom or the next, Keith, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Shiro drew upon his hand, but Keith resisted, if only for a moment, eyes wide. “My prince – I can clean myself, please, do not trouble yourself with such things –”

“And if I said I wouldn’t be troubled?” Shiro retorted. “If I said I wanted to take care of you?”

Keith wet his lips, vaguely aware that the intensity of Shiro’s gaze was definitely not anger, but something...else. Something he didn’t dare to name. “I would say that it is my job to take care of  _ you,  _ my prince.”

Shiro frowned. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“That – that isn’t what I said,” Keith stammered. What was going  _ on? _

“Good,” Shiro said, and led him to his bathing chamber. He glanced over his shoulder, gaze soft. “I missed you, Keith. I wish I could have been there with you at Arus.”

“I’m sure you would have led us into victory, my prince.”

Shiro sighed. “Will you stop that?”

“What?”

“If you couldn’t lead us into victory, then I highly doubt I could have done any better,” Shiro retorted. “No, don’t argue. I made you the siege commander because you are an excellent strategist and an even better swordsman. Sendak played dirty, didn’t he?” Reluctantly, Keith nodded, and Shiro’s lip curled. “Of course. That’s the only way he could have won. If he fought a fair fight, a fight with honor — the kind of fight you fight, Keith — then Arus would be ours, and he knows it.”

Keith stood in the doorway of the baths, blinking as Shiro began to fill the large sunken basin with water from the golden spigots, the clear, steamy water making the mosaic of lions playing along the sides of the bath bright and beautiful. “You wanted me to fight dishonorably?” Keith asked slowly. 

Shiro gave him a look. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying? No, don’t answer that. The way you fight is perfect, Keith. You’re a good knight.”

“I’m a knight who lost, my prince. You trusted me with victory and I lost –”

“I trusted you, and I still trust you.” Shiro shook his head and pointed to the tub. “Get in the bath, Keith.”

Keith didn’t dare take a single step forward. Surely this must be some kind of test. He swallowed. “You know I can’t do that, my prince. I shouldn’t even be here. These are your bathing chambers.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, voice quiet when he said, “You can be here. These are my bathing chambers and I say you can be here.” He hesitated. “But only if you want. Do you...not want to be here?”

Keith was sweating and he was certain Shiro must see it, with no tunic to hide his chest. “I should not be here,” Keith repeated. It  _ must _ be a test.

“That wasn’t an answer, Keith,” Shiro said. He turned off the spigot and poured in several bottles of soaps and perfumes, turning the steaming water foamy and fragrant. “I asked if you  _ wanted _ to be here. Not if you should. Forget about  _ should.” _

Keith stood helplessly before him. He couldn’t lie to the Crown Prince. It was unthinkable. Maybe he had already lied by omission by denying his attraction over the years, but this, to lie outright...he could not bear it. Keith bowed his head. “I want to be here, my prince,” he said softly. “Even if I do not understand why you would...allow me such an honor.”

Shiro’s expression softened, and Keith was sure he wasn’t imagining the relief in his face. “Keith, you’ve earned honors a million times over that are far, far greater than me bathing you. But if you consider this an honor, then come here, and I will gladly bestow it upon you.” His eyes crinkled up at the corners. Keith took a slow step forward. He couldn’t tell if Shiro was being serious, or teasing him. 

He couldn’t think of much at all when Shiro added, “You’ll have to take off the rest of those filthy clothes first, you know. I intend to bathe you properly, Keith.”

“Of course,” Keith stammered, and fumbled with the laces of his pants, then reconsidered and started on his boots instead, hastily setting them aside and wincing at the sight of their dirtiness against the shining tile floor. “Um –” Shiro was eyeing him, smile now definitely teasing, which was  _ not  _ something Keith could handle in the slightest. 

Thankfully, the prince took pity, smoothly rising to his feet and crossing the room to fetch some sponges and towels, mercifully turning his back on Keith. It gave him barely enough time to unlace his pants so fast the lacing snapped, yank down his smallclothes, and throw himself into the bath before Shiro turned back ‘round.

Shiro raised an eyebrow and his sponge. “Oh, dear. This is going to take a while.”

Keith sunk down further in the water, which was already looking decidedly less perfectly foamy and white. He was still filthy from the battlefield. “I’m sorry –”

“Remember what I said about apologizing?” Shiro tutted and knelt down beside the bath. “It’s fine. Come, let me wash your hair.” All of this was wrong, Keith thought desperately. If anyone ought to be kneeling and bathing the other, it ought to be him. And yet, this...seemed to be what Shiro wanted. He looked so happy to just be there beside Keith, and Keith had missed that smile so much, the smile Shiro shared with so few.

Besides, Keith could  _ not  _ think about bathing Shiro right now. Or ever. He shifted in the bath, sitting upright so Shiro could lean in and pour some of the water over his hair. Keith shivered as it ran down his bare back. “Cold?” Shiro asked. Keith shook his head, pressing his knees tightly together. “Hmm,” Shiro said, leaning back in to add soap to the mix. 

As soon as his hands sank into Keith’s wet hair, Keith knew he was in trouble. It just – felt so good to be touched by him. Keith bit back a whimper as Shiro’s nails grazed his scalp, the prince’s hands gentle yet firm as he massaged soap through sweaty strands. “Your hair has gotten so long,” Shiro noted, voice low and breath warm on the back of Keith’s neck. “Almost long enough to wear in the Marmoran braid...do you intend to?”

Keith stiffened. “I would not be so bold –”

“Why not?” Shiro asked, or perhaps challenged. “Be bold.”

“I serve you, not the Marmorans,” Keith whispered.

“Do you think I ever doubted that?” Shiro paused, and Keith was utterly unprepared for his left hand to fall upon Keith’s uninjured shoulder and squeeze. “Keith. This isn’t some strange test of your loyalty. You can relax. In fact, please relax. That’s an order. You’re being bathed, not tortured.”

Keith bit his tongue before he could say something stupid like,  _ Are you sure about that? _

His body ached and it was frighteningly easy to lean back against the side of the bath and into Shiro’s touch. His knees slowly unfolded, and the longer Keith lay there, the more aware he was of the soothing quality in the warm water and perfumed air. His head lolled back. Shiro’s palm cupped the back of his skull, fingers curling through his soapy hair and stroking it back, rinsing it methodically. 

“I’m glad you came back to me,” Shiro said suddenly, hands falling from Keith’s hair, moving instead to his shoulder, pouring more warm soapy water over it and gingerly dabbing at the wound with a small cloth. “I wasn’t afraid you would lose, Keith. I was afraid you wouldn’t return.”

Keith’s breath caught. “I thought you said you didn’t doubt my loyalty, my prince…”

The cloth fell heavy on his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean, Keith,” Shiro whispered. “Of course I didn’t think you would abandon the fight. I was afraid you would be felled by a Galran blade, and I wouldn’t be there beside you as I should have been. I was afraid I was going to lose you, Keith.”

Keith blinked slowly. His chest felt tight, his face hot. “You would not lose me, my prince.”

“You don’t know that,” Shiro said, pressing the cloth harder against the wound. Keith sucked in a breath and he faltered, lifting the cloth away. “Apologies. I’m no healer, as you can see.”

“It’s alright,” Keith whispered back, ducking his head. “I...I try to be careful, my prince. You taught me that. How to think before throwing yourself into the fray. I’d be dead many times over if not for that lesson, Shiro.”

Keith could hear the smile in Shiro’s voice when he said, “It’s good to hear my name on your lips. Why do you never use it?”

Keith froze. “I – it was a slip of the tongue, my prince –”

“Yet I have told you time and time again that you may call me by that name, and even by my first name if you wish,” Shiro continued, “and still, you stubbornly defer to me as if you were a servant, and not my dearest friend.”

“But –” Keith gulped. “Am I not your servant?”

Shiro made an exasperated noise behind him, then shifted to the side so Keith could see his equally exasperated face. “Do you think I let servants into my bathing chambers, Keith?”

Keith’s eyes widened. “I –” He lowered his gaze. “No. I suppose not. But you’re a prince. And I’m just –”

Shiro held up a hand, his gaze warm, much warmer than the water on Keith’s skin. “No, Keith,” he murmured. “There is no ‘just’ about you.”

_ “Shiro,” _ Keith breathed, soft and startled, the moment before Shiro leaned in and kissed him. 

Keith sat there frozen, lips parted against Shiro’s, eyes wide, until Shiro drew back with a low sound. He averted his gaze, shoulders slumping, and Keith swore he had never before seen Shiro look so despondent. “I’m sorry, Keith,” Shiro said, and Keith saw him shift away, knew he was about to leave. “I should not have assumed –”

Keith caught his wrist. He knew he should not have, but in that moment he no longer cared about  _ should,  _ not with the echo of Shiro’s kiss tingling on his lips. “Assumed what?” he asked, barely daring to hope.

Slowly, Shiro sank back down. He tilted his head, reaching out again for Keith, and when his metal hand slid into Keith’s hair and cupped the nape of his neck, Keith went easily. Shiro searched his gaze, brow low and serious. “That you want me,” Shiro said. “This isn’t an obligation. You’re not my servant. But if you want me, then stay. Please.”

Keith’s breath shallowed, near panting. “I want you,” he said, shaky and too honest, too desperate, but he saw now that same desperation mirrored in Shiro’s eyes. “You don’t – have to beg for that, my prince. I’m here. I’m – I’m staying right here.”

Shiro regarded him with dark eyes, warmth tipping over into heat. “Yes,” he agreed, “you are.”

The first kiss had been tentative, an invitation, nothing more. This kiss was not that. Keith knew he had just ruined Shiro’s tunic with his splashing when he surged forward to meet Shiro’s mouth, frantic and bruising, and yet could not find it in himself to care. 

Shiro answered in kind, hand curling tight around the back of his neck, holding him close as the kiss deepened. Keith was too overwhelmed by the feeling of it, by the realization that _ Shiro had kissed him, _ to be ashamed of the way he clung desperately to Shiro’s tunic, dragging him down into one kiss after another until they were both flushed and breathless and –

Ah. The foamy surface of the water had begun to clear, well enough that Keith’s bare body was no longer hidden from the prince’s eyes. Shiro broke the kiss, his mouth red and swollen and impossible to look away from, but Shiro’s own gaze raked over Keith with a kind of hunger that made him shiver. He resisted the urge to curl away, instead hesitantly letting his knees drift apart beneath the water until his stirring cock was impossible to miss. If Keith was not mistaken, judging by the bulge in the prince’s leathers, he was not unaffected, either. 

Keith gulped. “My prince, I…” He had no idea what to say. There was no etiquette for this situation – or if there was, it had not been taught to him by the Marmorans.

“If you apologize right now,” Shiro warned, “I will have to take drastic measures.”

“Oh?” Keith blinked up at him. He was entirely out of his element, here, and yet – there was always a kind of familiarity with Shiro, no matter how strange and new the circumstances. It had been a familiarity Keith was always afraid to acknowledge, to accept, but perhaps...it was mutual. “I...wasn’t going to apologize.”

Shiro peered at him. “No? What, then?”

“I just,” Keith started, and stopped, licking his lips. “You want me?”

Shiro stared. “Keith,” he said slowly, “are you serious?”

“...Yes.” Keith frowned at him. “I would not joke about this, my prince.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Shiro sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, which was now almost as wet as Keith’s. “Keith. _ Yes. _ I want you, very much, _ in case that was somehow unclear.” _

“Why?”

Shiro opened his mouth, then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“I may be a good knight,” Keith said, halting, struggling to accept even this, though somehow Shiro still believed it to be so, “but I doubt I would be a very good bedpartner.”

“Would be?” Shiro exhaled. “Oh. You mean –”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Keith blurted. “And – and, you deserve someone, er, more capable and talented in – um, the art of pleasure, my prince.”

“Keith,” Shiro said slowly, “this is the opposite of a problem.”

“Oh.” Keith blushed. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Shiro murmured, leaning back in, breath feathering over Keith’s skin. “Know that I would want you no matter your, ah, history, but – if you’re worried about this, just think: isn’t it fitting that your prince is the very first?” The low growl left Keith’s throat against his volition and he clamped his mouth shut at once, but Shiro had already heard it. His brow lifted in curiosity. “Hmm. It seems the Galra in you liked that very much.”

Keith cleared his throat uselessly. “I – I want you to be the first, my prince – Shiro.”  _ And the last,  _ he didn’t say, because perhaps that would be too much, even though all of this felt like far too much.

Shiro hummed, his gaze so fond Keith was almost embarrassed in the face of it. “Gladly,” he replied, and tucked a wet strand of Keith’s hair behind his ear. “And in answer to your question of why – well, if I must prove to you exactly  _ why _ you are so dear to me, then Keith, I will do so.”

“Prove to me? How – mmph!”

This time, Shiro didn’t cover his mouth with a hand, but kissed him quick and sweet before pulling away. “Come on,” Shiro said, grinning and drawing upon his hand, guiding him up and out of the bath. “As wonderful as it is to see you dripping wet, I have other plans for you.”

Keith let out a choked laugh, stifled by a gasp as Shiro came up behind him with a towel, wrapping it around his soaking body and gently drying the wound with a clean cloth. “Other plans?” he managed. “You’ve thought about this.” He tried not to lean back into Shiro’s solid warmth, so close behind him. He could not appear over-eager — Keith may have failed Shiro in the battle but he was determined not to fail Shiro in this. Whatever... _ this _ was, exactly.

“A great deal,” Shiro agreed. “I’ve had lots of time to think about it, about you, especially in your absence.”

The thought of Shiro thinking about him in such a way — pining, if Keith was interpreting this correctly — left him equal parts flabbergasted and unsure. Shiro gave up with toweling him off and led him out of the baths, not back into the sitting room but into Shiro’s bedroom. Keith had been there before, but under very different circumstances, often when Shiro was ill and bedridden. Shiro was neither of these things now, but as they crossed the threshold the troubled thoughts in his mind coalesced into one and Keith said, “Wait.”

Shiro stopped at once, the excited gleam in his eyes fading slightly. “Is everything alright?”

“Did I,” Keith started, and swallowed. “Did I seduce you?”

Shiro made a choked little noise. “What?”

“The — the other knights, they were spreading rumors that I — that we — were bedpartners, and that I had, um, worked my way into your favor by seducing you and — why are you laughing at me?”

“Keith,” Shiro wheezed, rubbing his temples, “oh, dear. No. It took bathing and kissing you for you to even notice I desired you. I love you, but you’re no seductor, Keith.” 

Keith stared at him. “You — what did you just —  _ my prince?”  _ He said it in a very small voice.

“Surely it’s no surprise that I love you, Keith,” Shiro replied, easy as anything. “But perhaps it needs to be said more often. I love you. And whichever knights are spreading such rumors, well…” His eyes gained a dangerous gleam. “I think they’ll soon be sorry they ever said an ill word against you.”

“Shiro,” Keith stammered, stumbling as Shiro led him onwards towards the bed, not resisting but grappling with the prince’s words. Bedpartners was one thing, but love?  _ Love?  _ A crown prince could not love a knight –  _ oh,  _ it was very difficult to think when Shiro was pulling him close and pressing his soft, warm mouth to Keith’s throat, shoving the towel from his shoulders and crowding him up against the edge of the bed. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Shiro warned, breath hot against his ear. Keith shuddered, hips giving a helpless little jerk, terribly aware that his leaking cock was making a mess of the prince’s fine leathers and expensive tunic. “Stop that.”

“I just,” Keith gasped, tipping his head back and staring wide-eyed at the lavish canopy as Shiro pressed him slowly but inexorably down onto the plush bed, “you – love me. How –”

“How?” Shiro chuckled, nuzzling under his jaw. “What, you think such a thing is impossible?” He lifted his head, braced over Keith’s body, and raised an eyebrow. “You tell me you love me all the time.”

“You are my prince!” Keith squawked, face burning, turning even redder when Shiro took a step away from the bed, leaving him sprawled out and flustered in his nakedness. “Of course I love you!”

“Ah,” Shiro drawled, “but not  _ everyone _ loves me the way you do, do they?”

Keith didn’t mean to growl at that. Again. Shiro’s smirk widened. “I – I hope not,” he managed, scrubbing his hand across his hot face. 

Shiro huffed, rolling his eyes fondly, and then began unlacing his tunic. Keith started upright to help him, but Shiro raised a hand. “Stay,” he said. “I assure you I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself.”

“I – of course, my prince,” Keith whispered, awkwardly shuffling further back up the bed, painfully aware that the blankets he currently had his bare ass on were probably more expensive than his damn horse and sword put together. “Um – is there anything I can...do…to help...”

Shiro gave him a look. “Keith,” he said, “you are  _ always doing things to help me. _ It won’t kill you to lay there and _ relax  _ for a second, I promise. You’re wounded, remember? Rest.”

“Rest,” Keith repeated. “I...will try, my prince.”

Then Shiro shed his tunic and the linen shirt beneath it, and Keith gave up on relaxing. Shiro, whose innocent smile said he knew exactly what effect his well-built body was having, ignored him in favor of unlacing his leathers. Keith lay there as obediently as he could, unsure what to do with his hands, because somehow touching himself felt...disobedient. He flushed hotter at the thought, squirming a little. Maybe it was ridiculous that he could stride with absolute confidence into any battle, yet here he was reduced to a blushing mess by seeing the crown prince’s cock. 

It was, Keith thought desperately, trying to cling to some thread of reason and calm, a very fine cock. Oh, gods, it was a very very fine cock. 

“Keith?” Oh. Shiro was speaking to him. Dazed, Keith lifted his gaze to Shiro’s face. The crown prince was climbing onto the bed, kneeling at the end of it. Kneeling. Before Keith. Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Shiro’s expression was concerned, but mostly amused. “Keith. Still with me?”

“Always,” Keith croaked, and made a strangled noise when Shiro reached out to brush his hand over Keith’s calf, nudging his legs apart. “Are – are you –”

“In love with you?” Shiro asked. “Yes. Still am, thanks for checking.”

Keith sucked in a breath, toes curling as Shiro edged closer. “You – you can’t just say things like that.”

“No?” Shiro teased. “So I can’t tell you how lovely you look right now, either?”

“Lovely?” Keith managed, shaking his head before the word was even done. “I’m not –”

Shiro’s right hand fell upon his belly, hardly an inch above his cock, and Keith bit back a whimper. “Really?” Shiro murmured, shifting up further on the bed, over him, his shadow falling across Keith in the sunlit room. “Because this,” he ran smooth metal fingers over Keith’s taut stomach, over the hard, flexing muscle of his abdomen and the lean cut of his hips, “feels pretty lovely to me.”

“Then, then you’re also,” Keith breathed, “lovely...lovelier, my prince.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Shiro said, leaning down, their lips so close, yet far enough apart that Keith missed his kiss already. “You are lovely in your own right, Keith. Or would you challenge your prince, hm?”

Keith swallowed. “N-no, but...I’m not worthy of such praise, Shiro –”

Shiro didn’t let him finish, which was becoming a pattern, and not one that Keith had any objection to – especially not when Shiro was crawling over him, taking Keith’s face in his hands, and kissing him hard, the drag of their cocks against each other’s skin so sweet and impossible it almost hurt. Almost. 

Keith couldn’t hold back his whimper this time, and let himself wind a tentative arm around Shiro’s waist, holding him there, though it didn’t seem like Shiro was going anywhere anytime soon. 

“You’re worthy,” Shiro breathed, trailing kisses from Keith’s mouth to his throat, digging his teeth in until Keith’s grip on him tightened. His kisses turned softer, spiraling down to Keith’s injured shoulder, pressing his lips to where the flesh was still raw. “You are, Keith. I want you to know that. I want you to know how good, how perfect for me you are.” Keith whimpered again, louder, hair falling into his face as he turned his head on the pillow, drawing in shallow, overwhelmed breaths already, though Shiro had barely even touched him. “Look at you. How lucky am I, that I get to have you? What a precious, beautiful gift. Fit for a king, I think.”

_ “Shiro,” _ Keith gasped, voice breaking on a soft cry when Shiro’s left hand curled gently around his cock. It was the first time anyone else had touched him like this, and Keith realized with a start that every excuse he had made to himself about being too busy for a lover, too devoted to the knighthood, to protecting his prince – they had all been excuses for the truth, and the truth was that there had only ever been Shiro.

Shiro’s grip was still gentle, his thumb rubbing at the wet tip of Keith’s cock in a teasing promise of more, and he had hardly gotten three strokes in before Keith was coming, curling up a little as he did so, for the rush of pleasure was accompanied with an even stronger rush of shame. He couldn’t stop himself, it was just –  _ Shiro.  _ Swallowing back the humiliation, Keith started to apologize, aware he was babbling, only to be silenced by Shiro sitting back on his heels and dragging his fingers through the cum splattered pathetically across Keith’s belly. 

“Look at you,” Shiro repeated, voice darker than before, and Keith stared up at him in disbelief and another wave of hopeless arousal as Shiro brought his messy fingers to his lips and licked them clean. “Beautiful, Keith.”

Keith bit his lip hard, and he could feel the faint sting of sharpening fangs. “My prince,” he whispered. 

“Let me take care of you,” Shiro cooed, stroking his side, from his heaving chest to the curve of his thigh. “I’ve got you, my knight. Let me treat you as you deserve.”

Keith’s eyes rolled back as Shiro’s hand returned to his cock and the prince began to sink down the bed, his gaze intent and his intentions clear. In that moment, Keith could not think of a single protest. All he could think, all he could say was,  _ “Please.” _

*

Shiro had long dreamed of this moment, but he had to admit that he had often doubted it would ever actually happen. For every moment that Keith was flustered and transparent, there were three more moments where he had been utterly stoic and unreadable. 

For years, they had done this. Shiro had thought that surely when he invited Keith to tea every afternoon, the knight would see what he was getting at. When that hadn’t worked, Shiro had attempted to be craftier and made certain that highly accurate rumors of his attraction to men, in case there was any uncertainty, reached the knight’s ears – surely that would do it. (It did not.) 

When that had failed, Shiro played dirty in their sparring sessions. He encouraged Keith to do more wrestling than sword fighting with him, and Keith always complied and seemed awfully sweaty afterwards, but he was never anything but respectful and knightly even with his thighs locked around Shiro’s damn neck in a chokehold. It was extremely frustrating, and Shiro had begun to despair, but valiantly pressed onward. 

So Shiro had taken to writing Keith letters whenever he was away and Shiro was unable to follow, either due to illness or other royal business. They were painfully sappy letters and Shiro would have been mortified for anyone else to see them, and many of Keith’s replies were just as sappy, even if there was lots of  _ my prince _ ’s and _ it is an honor to serve you _ ’s.

And yet, that didn’t seem to do it, either.

Shiro wasn’t proud of it, but he had gone to his mother for advice. She already knew, of course. She was the queen; it was her business to know everything. She’d approached him about it within the first year Keith was in his service and pleasantly told him that an alliance with the Marmora would make for a strong match. His mother was not one for mincing words. So when he asked her how to know for certain what Keith felt for him, she had given him one look and said, “Bathe him.”

“Sorry?” Shiro had squeaked.

“You heard me. That man would do anything for you, so show him you would do anything for him.” She had paused deliberately. “Also, harder to hide secrets in a bathtub.”

Shiro did not stay to hear more.

Of course it would be his mother’s advice that finally worked.

And now – now, Shiro finally had him. Keith really was a vision, spread out under him, flushed and quivering with every touch as Shiro mouthed over his rehardening cock, marveling at how responsive, how sensitive he was. He made little gasping moans with every stroke of Shiro’s tongue, his strong thighs utterly pliant when Shiro grasped them to lift them over his own shoulders so he could lean in and taste Keith properly. 

_ “Ah,” _ Keith gasped when Shiro swallowed him down to the root, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. His hands flailed at his sides, and Shiro hummed in fond amusement around his mouthful of cock, catching Keith’s wrists and guiding his hands to rest on Shiro’s head. Keith gingerly left them there, because of course he would never be so bold as to fuck his prince’s mouth. 

They would cross that bridge someday. Shiro huffed and let his own eyes fall shut, burying his nose in warm, sweaty curls and focusing on the weight of Keith’s cock on his tongue, adoring the way he could feel the velvet-soft flesh harden and fill out in his mouth, stretching his jaw wide.

It didn’t take long for Keith to return to the edge of climax like that, and Shiro lost himself to the steady rhythm, bobbing his head slow and pulling back to suckle at the tip until Keith moaned loud and finally, finally tugged at Shiro’s hair, gasping out a low plea. Shiro felt his cock twitch and hummed, making Keith gasp and swear all over again. When Shiro pulled off just before Keith could come, Keith whined, his body shining with sweat, one hand fisted in the silk sheets and the other tightening in Shiro’s hair. 

“Hush,” Shiro murmured, kissing his hip, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Keith’s eyes flickered open, glassy and dark. “You can take me,” he whispered, spreading his legs almost shyly, “if you want to, I think, I think I would like that…”

Shiro’s cock throbbed, an unhelpful reminder, but today was not about him. “Oh, Keith,” he sighed, leaning over him and making sure Keith saw the shiny glisten of his lips, “remember what I said about relaxing?” He touched Keith’s shoulder just above the wound and saw his slight wince. “I would like that too – I would like you all sorts of ways, you know. But right now, rest. I can think of something else you may like.” 

Keith blinked in hazy intrigue as Shiro rose from his bed to fetch the vial of oil he kept an embarrassingly short distance away. Keith didn’t seem to put two and two together, though, just trembled in anticipation as Shiro uncorked the vial and coated his fingers. It was fascinating, really, how changed Keith was in bed – so much softer, unguarded, and yet as eager to please as ever. Shiro had an inkling that this was not a side Keith showed to just anyone — or even to anyone else at all. It was an honor that Shiro did not take lightly. 

“Relax,” Shiro reminded him, and shuffled back down to kiss the tip of Keith’s cock while circling a wet finger around his rim. At his touch, Keith didn’t tense, but somehow melted further into the bed, head lolling back with a groan as Shiro’s finger sank in up to the knuckle, slowly curling in tight, oiled heat. “That’s it,” Shiro breathed, laving his tongue over Keith’s swollen cock, “mm, just like that. Like you were made for this, so beautiful, and all for me. How is that, hmm?”

“Nngh,” Keith managed, but his hips tilted up into it, caught between Shiro’s finger and his mouth, and it was impossible to mistake the bliss in his face when Shiro ran his tongue down the length of Keith’s cock and rubbed at his hole with a second slick finger, easing the way. “Good,” Keith panted when Shiro’s second finger sank home, “fuck – my prince,  _ my prince, yes,  _ I need –”

“What do you need?” Shiro coaxed, pulling off his cock to peer down at him, marveling at Keith’s undeniable prettiness, all coiled up in that whipcord strength. His eyes had begun to flare a bright, unmistakable gold as Shiro had only before seen when he was consumed by instinct in the thick of battle — it was triggered by both bloodlust and lust, it seemed. The transformation only served to make Shiro’s blood run hotter, as did Keith’s reply.

“I need you,” Keith begged, “Shiro, you,” and he cried out wordlessly when Shiro again sucked Keith’s cock into his mouth while Shiro’s two fingers pressed deep, his cock spurting over Shiro’s tongue at once, as soon as his fingers found what they were looking for. 

Shiro swallowed all Keith had to give, savored it, sucking and stroking Keith open wide. He found himself awed by how tightly Keith’s body clung to his fingers, unable to stop himself from imagining how that heat would feel around his cock. Another time, another time – there would be so many other times, of that he was certain.

“Takashi,” Keith gasped, cock still dribbling as Shiro’s fingers kept rubbing deep within him, “it feels – _ ah _ – I want – mmm…”

“I’m here,” Shiro promised, sinking down onto the bed beside him, being careful not to crush his shoulder but instead curling close against his side, fingers still working between Keith’s shaking thighs. He did not expect Keith to instantly fold into him, rutting his messy cock against Shiro’s thigh and burying his face in Shiro’s throat with a soft moan. “Sweetheart,” Shiro breathed, cupping Keith’s face, tilting it up to his own until Keith kissed him, clumsy but earnest, and it was perfect, because it was Keith – it had always been Keith. 

“Good boy,” Shiro told him when he pulled away wide-eyed and unsure, and all at once the uncertainty faded from Keith and he curled closer instead, pushing his thigh between Shiro’s legs insistently. “Mm – Keith, you don’t – you don’t have to –  _ nn, yes…”  _ It was not a very effective protest, considering he was already riding Keith’s thigh, rubbing off against it, both of them making a mess of the bedsheets in their haste to be closer. 

“I know,” Keith breathed, panting in the crook of his neck, “but I want to, so much.”

Shiro groaned and pulled Keith flush against him, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks and punching a choked gasp from Keith, but Keith didn’t pull away, dissolving into whines and squirming shudders of his hips as Shiro stroked them in tandem. His cock had been aching since he saw Keith in the bath, so it would not take long, but even still it felt like a small, sweet eternity, tangled beside him in warmth and sticky pleasure. 

“Love you,” Shiro managed, nosing at Keith’s jaw, along the bruise he left just below it, and hoping Keith’s nails – or were they claws, now? – scratching at his back left marks, too. 

Keith just whimpered and nodded frantically, a faint growl buried in his throat as he felt Shiro’s cock swell and spill, hot and twitching between them. He must have been oversensitive, but he moved with Shiro through it, never letting go, and when it was over they both lay there sweating and sated, hopelessly entangled.

Keith didn’t lift his head from Shiro’s chest and let Shiro pet his hair, feeling Keith’s shallow breaths against his skin, the pound of both their hearts loud in the quiet. “I missed you,” Shiro whispered, tucking his face into Keith’s hair and breathing in the scent of it, of him, now overlain by the scent of his own soaps. It was a smell Shiro could get used to. “My brave, honorable, worthy, lovely knight.”

When Shiro’s hand curled with care over the healing wound, tenderly protective, Keith’s shoulders hunched inwards, ever closer to him. 

“Yours,” he agreed without a single hint of doubt, and left a kiss right over Shiro’s heart.


End file.
